uwah this is my first time filling i hope it's okay format wise and everything!!! i love propesci ;w;
Pesci’s eyes darted around the crowded concourse. His heart hadn’t left his throat since he was pushed out of Prosciutto’s car, the older man’s words echoing in his head and the warmth of his lips not leaving his own. He felt his face get hot again as he recalled his special pep talk.
His throat had grown tight during the silent car ride, the pit of his stomach unsettled like this drive was a roller coaster. “Aniki,” he had croaked, uncharacteristically quiet, “I’m not sure I can—“
The car jerked to the side of the road, parking haphazardly as Prosciutto grabbed Pesci’s shoulder. “Pesci, Pesci, Pesci, you can’t be doubting yourself now…” His bony hand caressed Pesci’s cheek, and the younger man recoiled slightly.
“B-but, what if I mess up?” Pesci fought to bring his eyes up to Prosciutto’s, scared he’d be met with anger, but his superior had a sympathetic look. That was even worse. He sunk back into his chair sadly. “I don’t want to do it.”
The tension in the car got heavier and Pesci wondered if Prosciutto was angry. He was his Aniki after all, and it was basically part of his job to make sure Pesci wasn’t a useless waste of space on the team. Surely he was thinking of calling Risotto and telling him they had failed, that Pesci was to be disposed of. Prosciutto gripped his shirt, and he wondered if he’d be dealt with by Grateful Dead after all.
Prosciutto yanked him forward by his shirt and kissed him roughly. Pesci’s eyes shot wide open, and he reached out to either push Prosciutto away or pull him closer, he wasn’t sure which.
The blond pulled away, not before slightly biting Pesci’s lower lip. “Pesci… What if I give you a little more… incentive.” His hands were on Pesci before he could even ask what he meant, and his face was turning bright red. “Once you finish this quick thing, this tiny easy errand… We meet in the hotel room, as planned, and… You and I can do more than kiss.”
Pesci sputtered. Had Prosciutto read his mind? He was unnerved slightly, but found himself nodding eagerly as the older man’s hands roamed more, leaning closer and kissing him again. They went on kissing, or rather Prosciutto kept kissing him, Pesci gathering enough courage to gently wrap one arm around the other man, twitching a little the more his superior touched him. As suddenly as it had started, Prosciutto had pushed him back and told him to continue with the plan, looking suspiciously red in the face.
Back in the present, he realized his target had arrived. It was easier than he ever could have imagined, simply waiting for the target to place the suitcase at his feet. Pretending his taxi had arrived, he blended in with the crowd and headed for the hotel. He was calm and collected until he got into the elevator, where he was alone for a while. His heart started racing again, but this time it wasn’t unpleasant. As he stepped out of the elevator and turned, he felt butterflies in his stomach.
Blushing to his ears, Pesci made it to the door somehow, knocking twice. He was expecting Prosciutto to open the door and mention nothing of what he had said earlier, or to claim it was a joke, and just pat him on the back for going through with it even though he was scared. He was prepared to laugh it off, but any noise he was planning on making got caught in his throat as Prosciutto opened the door.
The blond pulled him inside quickly. “I told you it would be easy,” he said softly, leaning in closer as Pesci set the case down.
(1/2)
Pesci’s eyes darted around the crowded concourse. His heart hadn’t left his throat since he was pushed out of Prosciutto’s car, the older man’s words echoing in his head and the warmth of his lips not leaving his own. He felt his face get hot again as he recalled his special pep talk.
His throat had grown tight during the silent car ride, the pit of his stomach unsettled like this drive was a roller coaster. “Aniki,” he had croaked, uncharacteristically quiet, “I’m not sure I can—“
The car jerked to the side of the road, parking haphazardly as Prosciutto grabbed Pesci’s shoulder. “Pesci, Pesci, Pesci, you can’t be doubting yourself now…” His bony hand caressed Pesci’s cheek, and the younger man recoiled slightly.
“B-but, what if I mess up?” Pesci fought to bring his eyes up to Prosciutto’s, scared he’d be met with anger, but his superior had a sympathetic look. That was even worse. He sunk back into his chair sadly. “I don’t want to do it.”
The tension in the car got heavier and Pesci wondered if Prosciutto was angry. He was his Aniki after all, and it was basically part of his job to make sure Pesci wasn’t a useless waste of space on the team. Surely he was thinking of calling Risotto and telling him they had failed, that Pesci was to be disposed of. Prosciutto gripped his shirt, and he wondered if he’d be dealt with by Grateful Dead after all.
Prosciutto yanked him forward by his shirt and kissed him roughly. Pesci’s eyes shot wide open, and he reached out to either push Prosciutto away or pull him closer, he wasn’t sure which.
The blond pulled away, not before slightly biting Pesci’s lower lip. “Pesci… What if I give you a little more… incentive.” His hands were on Pesci before he could even ask what he meant, and his face was turning bright red. “Once you finish this quick thing, this tiny easy errand… We meet in the hotel room, as planned, and… You and I can do more than kiss.”
Pesci sputtered. Had Prosciutto read his mind? He was unnerved slightly, but found himself nodding eagerly as the older man’s hands roamed more, leaning closer and kissing him again. They went on kissing, or rather Prosciutto kept kissing him, Pesci gathering enough courage to gently wrap one arm around the other man, twitching a little the more his superior touched him. As suddenly as it had started, Prosciutto had pushed him back and told him to continue with the plan, looking suspiciously red in the face.
Back in the present, he realized his target had arrived. It was easier than he ever could have imagined, simply waiting for the target to place the suitcase at his feet. Pretending his taxi had arrived, he blended in with the crowd and headed for the hotel. He was calm and collected until he got into the elevator, where he was alone for a while. His heart started racing again, but this time it wasn’t unpleasant. As he stepped out of the elevator and turned, he felt butterflies in his stomach.
Blushing to his ears, Pesci made it to the door somehow, knocking twice. He was expecting Prosciutto to open the door and mention nothing of what he had said earlier, or to claim it was a joke, and just pat him on the back for going through with it even though he was scared. He was prepared to laugh it off, but any noise he was planning on making got caught in his throat as Prosciutto opened the door.
The blond pulled him inside quickly. “I told you it would be easy,” he said softly, leaning in closer as Pesci set the case down.